


Lotus

by Lady_Kit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ...sort of, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, I swear, LV Issues, Multi, Non-Sexual Slavery, Oh and Muffet's nice for once, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rated for problematic themes, Sexual Slavery, This is definitely a Fell universe, Unconventional story telling, Well. Indentured servitude but it's just slavery with a nicer name, but this is not Underfell Papyrus, each chapter tagged individually, non-sexual prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Lady_Kit
Summary: Papyrus sometimes wondered if he’d ever get used to being locked in a room with a monster hopped up on LV, and only a lap-harp, a teapot, and his wits to defend himself.





	Lotus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ravvi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravvi/gifts).



> Warnings: prostitution of a sort, indentured servitude, sexual slavery (of a sort) though there is no sex in this chapter, LV issues.

Papyrus set the brush aside, then tilted his chin this way and that, getting a good look at the pink lotus painted beneath his sharp teeth. Lowering his chin, he studied his sockets and the small pink petals that ringed them. With a slight nod, he stood and drew a pink silk robe over his bones, standing still so the Washua assisting him could tie the ribbon at the base of his spine. The sleeves slipped to the very edge of his phalanges and the collar came up high, concealing all but a narrow sliver of vertebrae.

He looked soft. Non-threatening. Perfect.

Folding his hands neatly in front of him, he turned to the Washua and dismissed them. They bowed and scurried out, leaving Papyrus alone. He lowered his head and shut his sockets, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself. Mettaton had emphasized the importance of this client—and while no threats had been explicitly stated, the implication had been obvious. He could do this. He could. He was one of the best ‘pieces in Mettaton’s stable for a reason. He could do this. Straightening his spine and lifting his chin, he opened the door, walking blithely past the guards. They followed no more than a step behind him on either side. Protecting the merchandise.

All eyes were on him as he crossed the catwalk overhanging the casino floor, and he made sure to peer down at the monsters below, smiling sweetly. Most of them wouldn’t be able to afford a night with him, but then again, most of them wouldn’t ordinarily catch so much as a glimpse of a sweet-piece of his caliber. Sure, there were common ‘pieces walking the floors below—what some of the other trained sweet-pieces would derogatively refer to as ‘street-pieces’—but a sweet-piece trained in the art? That was a rarity indeed, and something only accessible to the nobility.

Mettaton liked to claim that everyone staying at his resort was treated like a celebrity. Inviting them to catch a glimpse of something so exclusive—going so far as to offer it up, even if the price-tag was beyond their means—was part of that. So while Papyrus maintained a reserved air, he smiled for the monsters looking up at him, occasionally waving, and if he caught sight of a monster on a winning streak, he made sure to blow them a kiss.

There were a few unruly monsters below, a few that shouted obscenities or asked for his price, but Papyrus tried not to focus on them, even if the words felt like small cuts to his soul. Instead, he focused on the awestruck faces, the silent ones that stared at him with something not as sharp as hunger, but just as desperate. His smile was for them, and not a few raised tentative hands when he caught their eye.

When he reached the end of the catwalk, he paused to wave once more, hoping perhaps a few of the monsters below would be tempted to bid on a night with one of the others. Most of them wouldn’t be able to afford his price-tag, but he was hardly the only sweet-piece on offer. Sienna, a sand elemental, was hoping to pay off her contract soon. Foolish thing managed to fall in love with a fire elemental—which wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t been dirt poor. He certainly couldn’t buy her contract, so she’d just have to do it the old fashioned way.

Papyrus hoped everything worked out for them, but Muffet assured him that she would be better off courting the favor of a noble. Love, she always impressed on him, was not important. The important thing was to find a monster wealthy enough to buy his contract, and kind enough to treat him well. She’d been a sweet-piece longer than he’d been alive, and she’d seen just about everything—the good and the awful. She’d also managed to work off her debt and earn enough money to rent a dressing room from Mettaton. No one owned her contract, and that’s how she liked it. She’d been a good older sister to him while he’d been here, teaching him everything she knew in the hope that he’d live a long and prosperous life.

_(“This doesn’t have to be an unpleasant job, dearie~, but it will always be a hard job.”)_

With that reminder ringing through his head, he dismissed his guard and entered the client room, locking the door behind him. “Good da—“

But there was an angry fish-woman was in his face, snarling, “Listen, I’m only here because my—because the Royal Scientist insisted I come. I don’t need a fucking sweet-piece to hold my hand, and I’m sure as shit not gonna fuck you. So you can just go sit in the corner, and we can both pretend we’re somewhere else, doing something else, got it?”

Papyrus blinked. Clearing his throat, he said, “If that’s your preference. Do you mind if I make tea?”

Her yellow eye bored into his sockets, too close for comfort. Papyrus just smiled gently, his fingers tightening over his knuckles below her field of vision. She was projecting menace and rage, and even without Checking her, he knew her LV would be obscenely high. He wondered, sometimes, if he’d ever get used to being locked in a room with a monster hopped up on LV, and only a lap-harp, a teapot, and his wits to defend himself. He suspected not, but by this point, he was very practiced at hiding his fear.

“Fine,” she snapped, turning away and starting to pace.

Papyrus allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes and exhale softly, then he moved over to the small stove and prepared the kettle. He turned his back on her, but he was hyper-aware of her pacing. Her footsteps were heavy and harsh, and projected malice still radiated off her. While he waited for the water to boil, Papyrus took a seat at the low table that dominated the center of the room, studiously ignoring the futon in the corner. The guard Captain disregarded him entirely, likely dismissing him as a possible threat. Which was fine; Papyrus really didn’t want to consider what she might do if she did think of him as a threat.

Reaching under the table, he pulled a lap-harp onto his folded thighs, plucking idly at a few strings. Her step faltered and she glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“My apologies,” he said genuinely, “Am I disturbing you?”

She tossed her head, eyeing him through a single narrowed eye. “I just want to know what you’re doing,” she finally said, no longer pacing the floor.

He nodded, smiling pleasantly. He held up the instrument, and she moved over to the table, kneeling down to get a better look at it. She paused before touching it, and he nodded faintly. “You’re welcome to try it, if you like.”

She brushed a finger over the wood, then flinched and drew away, resuming her pacing. The aura of menace was fading, though, and Papyrus’ soul unclenched. Setting the harp back in his lap, he began to play idly, plucking notes almost at random. The kettle whistled, and he set the harp aside to finish preparing the tea. “Do you like golden flower tea?” he asked, “Or would you prefer sea tea? Or something else, perhaps? We can always order room service.” He only hoped she wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. That rarely ended well for him.

She paused, studying him anew. “Sea tea’s fine,” she finally said, and he nodded. As he measured out the tea leaves, she rubbed the back of her neck and said, “I, uh, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Papyrus,” he told her. “And you’re Undyne, correct? Our king’s fiercest warrior.” He brought the tray over to the table as he said that and had the pleasure of watching a faint blush touch her cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

Smiling again, he gestured to the seat across from him. “Do you want to sit down and have some tea with me? I promise I won’t try to hold your hand. Or fuck you.”

She snorted, then grinned fiercely. “I thought they trained the sense of humor out of you sweet-pieces.”

“Hmmm, strange—I’ve heard the same said of the guard.”

Laughing openly, she sat across from him, then watched him pour the tea. “So…that, uh, thing that you were playing?”

“It’s a lap-harp,” he explained, setting it on the table between them. While he plucked a few notes, he watched her face carefully. Her gaze was fixed on his hands, and she was leaning forward slightly, focused. Good. He could definitely work with that. He pulled the harp back into his lap, and from memory, he started to play a favored song. Midway through, he started to project subtly.

/ peace / warmth / care / affection /

Undyne leaned forward, pillowing her arms on the tabletop. “You’re good,” she observed, and he smiled appreciatively. With certain clients, he’d use that opening to start flirting more blatantly, but the Captain had made it quite clear that she wouldn’t be receptive to that approach.

So, instead, he said, “Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“How long have you been playing?” she asked.

He considered the question, not sure how to answer. His fingers never stuttered on the strings, though. He wasn’t fully sure of his age, or how old he’d been when he was first brought to Mettaton. “More than fifteen years.”

She nodded, shoulders relaxing as she watched his hands. “You’re still pretty young then, aren’t you?”

Considering monsters were rather long-lived, he was comparatively quite young, though he’d been out of stripes for at least a decade at this point. “I suppose,” he said, strengthening his projections. Reassuring her that she was safe here. That he was here to help, not to harm. Her eye slid shut and she slouched forward, resting her chin on her arms.

She wasn’t really sleeping. Her breathing pattern was too shallow and too fast, but her muscles were relaxed. Papyrus plucked the last note, then switched to another song, softer and sweeter. He kicked up his projections again. She opened her eye when she noticed, but he just smiled cheekily and said, “Still not going to hold your hand, Captain.”

She chuckled and resettled herself. “Sorry about earlier,” she said, “Coming off a bad shift. I’ve, uh, never really done something like this before. I thought….”

“Many do,” he said with a shrug, still playing. “Do you want to talk about it? Your shift, that is. Not your misconceptions.”

She snorted and buried her face in her hands with a sigh. When she looked up again, her smirk had returned. “It was a pretty rough day, squirt. Not really the kind of stuff you’d want to hear.”

He nodded politely, even as his soul burned. “Yes,” he said, “Mettaton keeps us well sheltered here. I can’t imagine what it’s like outside these walls.” Never mind that she couldn’t imagine what it was like inside them either. But that was part of the fantasy he was selling, wasn’t it?

_(“They need us to be soft and sweet, inside and out. The good ones need it to stay sane. The bad ones need it because they take pleasure in thinking they’ve stolen it from us. Never let them see past the make-up, dearie. They pay us for the lie. Never forget that.”)_

Undyne nodded, allowing her eye to shut again. At ease at last. Papyrus continued to pluck at the lap-harp, still projecting, still smiling softly. Concealing all his broken edges, so she could have her moment of peace.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I actually have more ideas for this boy, so I might add to this ficlet, but for now, consider it a oneshot. There's no planned storyline.


End file.
